esrosedotblog

End of the week.

It is a day of routine events. Of all the days, Saturday is the one that has fixed routines. A meeting, a friend picks up John, I watch a weekend movie and so on.

It is part of the permanent backbone of life.

There is no condo board meeting this weekend, only one Saturday a month. So I feel free.

It is all in my head of course. I don't do anything the other days either. Or, rather, I do not have to.

But since grade school, Saturdays have had a special menu status.

When I worked as a management trainer I would sometimes work on Sunday. Never on Saturday. If things were tough, perhaps I would travel home on a Saturday. Rarely.

Today, clam chowder and corn bread. The chowder is from a can (the only good one, Bar Harbor, and this time the corn bread is made by Ralph, my grocery store. He makes superb corn bread and even more top bakery items. So why do the hard work when Ralph can do a lot better?

The chowder/corn bread has an antecedent. In Boston, Durgin Park, the old fashioned restaurant, put the corn bread on the table. Superb. That is many years ago. 1954. It still resonates. Chowder and corn bread.

Labels: food